


You and Me and the Devil Makes Three

by DrJackstraw



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Here is a small sample of what's to come, Hurt/Comfort, Power Imbalance, THE RATING IS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS, This is the gothic horror romance I always wanted to write, and it turns out it's as much Jekyll & Hyde as it is ABO, hehe; C O M E, human/monster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackstraw/pseuds/DrJackstraw
Summary: Returning to his ancestral home in Arlen, Georgia, the last of the Keenys hires a maid to dust off his legacy and exorcise his demons.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Reader, Scarecrow/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	You and Me and the Devil Makes Three

𝐘ou have never seen him sleep. 

You would never enter the library without the excuse of having to dust off those ancient tomes and you would never enter his bedchamber after dark, so you’ll never see him sleep a single wink. You would never look him in his still sky eyes for longer than it took for you to blink, so you'll never see him blink either.

You have never seen him sleep, but you have seen him pray the night away.

Your window overlooks the old chapel which the maize is slowly swallowing and a murder of crows are rapidly reclaiming. You see him, your dear warn-out doctor and the moth-munched coat tailing him. You see him, your restless doctor, running toward it like a sinner with a confession on his last breath. The chapel doors creek behind him and you see him no more.

The room you’ve been living in since he stole you away from Arlen’s public and only library and offered you his own to clean and care for freezes over. You’ve never been colder, never felt your soul shiver. Yet there are stalactites coming down on your spine tonight. 

There’s a scream. 

A scream? 

There’s a howl. 

There’s a howl ringing within the chapel walls. A howl ringing through your skull. 

There’s a howl. 

A howl?  
  


There’s a scream.

“Doctor!”

There’s a scream echoing through the walls of Keeny Manor. A scream tearing your throat open.

You feel the floor creek under you as you flee for the door, flying across the hall and stomping down the stairs. You feel the old house ache, but you can’t even feel your feet anymore. 

There are no wolves in Bulloch county.

You feel the cool steel barrel of the shotgun as you snatch it from the mantle. You feel the safety is still on, but you know it won’t be for long.

There are no wolves in Bulloch county, but the night is filled with howls. 

You feel the dewy grass stick to your feet as his button-up shirt begins to unstick from the sweat running down your back. You feel your heart overheating as it rushes to fill every fiber with adrenaline.

There are no wolves in Bulloch county because you’re about to unload the gun in its howling mouth.

A cacophony of crows greets you at the entrance and, as the wooden doors creek again, they’re a stormcloud through the night. In the flurry of feathers and fury, Doctor Crane keels over on the threshold.

“Doctor!”

There’s a scream, but there’s no howl. There’s also a groan as you gather him in your arms, all bloody and beaten with tattered clothes and flailed flesh.

“The wolf,” you curse as you caress his crumpled body, pale and white as a bone and red all over. 

“Gone,” he grinds out, a throat ripped apart by screams. And howls. “It’s gone.”

“But you’re still here,” you drown in a wave of tears as the ice-cold terror melts away in the light of dawn. “You’re still here.”

You’re his crutch the whole way back, every step and every stair. You’re his rock as the wind gets kicked out of his with every step. You’re his nurse as you clean his wounds and you’re his maid as you fluff is pillows.

“You’re an angel,” he prays to you, his sermon having been interrupted earlier. 

“I’m not,” you berate him for such blasphemy. “I’m human.”

“Then, maybe, I’m human, too.”

Whatever happened at that ancient altar, whatever demons got exorcised, he emerged from that chapel anew. You baptized this babe in the bathroom with sanitizer instead of holy water, but it was enough to save his soul. You healed him when the syringe you found in his pocket couldn’t.

“Humans go to bed now and again, Doctor,” you present to him his freshly fluffed pillows. “Please.”

When the sun breaks through the horizon and peeks through the dormitory’s curtains, you finally see Doctor Crane close his eyes and go to sleep.


End file.
